


keeping it loud

by kurooos



Series: keeping you [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anger, Dissociation, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Minor Violence, Past Rape/Non-con, Shangst Week 2017, it isn't heavy violence but Shiro gets shoved around a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 07:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11308830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurooos/pseuds/kurooos
Summary: With the aftermath of Lance learning Shiro had watched him that night, things don't go too well for Shiro at all.Lance's anger is not to be quelled easily. And not with Shiro trying to explain himself.alt; Lance chews Shiro out to no end





	keeping it loud

**Author's Note:**

> Shangst week Day 2: Anger  
> If you have not yet read my day one, you might need to to understand this fic. It's not necessary that you do but it will help you understand a lot of Lance's anger.

Lance’s entire world seemed shifted. Like someone simply stepped close and flipped everything upside down and left without even a single word.

It was a blurry and _hot_ walk from the training deck to his bedroom. His and _Shiro’s_.

Against his wishes, the thought of being behind closed doors with Shiro sent his stomach curling. A sensation so violent it scared Lance.

Lance could have gone his entire life saving the universe and never ever coming into contact with a catalyst for his mind to pull up terrible memories of the Garrison. But without any warning, Shiro did the job just fine.

Their mind meld turned into a living nightmare, Lance was stuck once again on the floor under hard stares from the professors, from the commanding generals.

Shiro’s memories were from a cracked door, but they blended seamlessly with Lance’s dormant ones and in a sick blend of memories, Lance got to experience that night over again while also _watching_ it.

It took Lance so long to figure out what was actually happening, stuck in the memory with the taste of bitter cum and whiskey burning his throat. When he was hunched over himself in the halls, Hunk asking him if he was okay, and Lance barely keeping from throwing up, the blue paladin had enough of that night and ripped the electrode helmet off his head, standing up in panic.

It snapped the memory away before anyone else could see the rest of that night, a hand in the smoke and wiping it away from four prying eyes. No one needed to hear him sob to Hunk about hating himself, about having to suck off the generals at random nights when he was called in for “evaluations”.

Lance’s ears were ringing as he stared at Shiro, still sitting on the floor in shock. Someone had said something but Lance felt bile at the back of his throat, sending him whirling around and running away to their shared room.

_Please don't follow me please don't follow me please don't-_

The door to the room slid shut with a soft click, the lock turning automatically on the command of the black paladin entering.

With no barrier to his emotions, Lance turned on Shiro, fear making him brave to meet Shiro head on. He was scared of the man with him. Alone. Away from prying eyes. Away from help if Lance screamed.

He couldn’t even be shocked about being scared of Shiro. All that registered was the shock of knowing his now boyfriend had watched him going through hell.

“You were there.”

He whispered, voice hot. His entire face burned with shame and anger and fear. It ran like a mantra in his head, and Lance was unaware he had been repeating himself, Shiro trying to come closer.

“ _Don’t you dare,_ ” he seethed, trying to not crawl off to the corner and sob. He had to be strong, had to face the problem now before…

Lance had to stay away from Shiro, to process that he was there.

Shiro, his hero, his boyfriend, his leader, was there. He had sat there and watched the whole exchange! Had even followed him afterwards without a single word…!

“ _Why_?”

Lance’s voice cracked as he demanded. Lance wanted to keep his voice level and commanding, like how Shiro could in high stress situations.

But tears were already choking Lance up, straining his voice so that it was hard to speak.

Shiro talked, explained how scared he was, how stunned he was and that he didn’t know who Lance was.

_Excuses excuses excuses! He’s lying! He doesn’t care! He’s lying! Liar! Liar!!_

His thoughts stopped him from hearing everything. Lance had zoned out of Shiro’s explanation halfway in.

When Lance found himself back in his body, able to feel Shiro’s touch, brushing away tears that were _still falling_ …

Lance’s heart was thudding hard in his chest. His lungs aching something terrible. He was so scared. Even when Shiro’s warm hands cupped his face so softly. Lance was scared of Shiro, scared of having the man that watched him go through hell touching him.

“Please say something,” Shiro asked, voice small. It was something Lance never heard before. This couldn’t be Shiro. This was in no way Shiro. With the scared crease between his brows, eyes shut in desperation.

“We-” Lance said, stopping when his voice broke. With shaky hands Lance pulled Shiro’s hands away. His skin crawled at every point of contact they had. “We need to take a break. I-I need some time...to myself.”

Lance was scared that Shiro would grab him, tell him no. _Push him to his knees and get a thumb into his mouth, slap him, tell him to be good and suck._

Shiro stepped back instead, nodding softly.

“I understand. However long you need. I’ll be here for you.”

Shiro kept going further and further away.

The door to their room slid open, and Lance felt panic shoot ice cold through his spine.

What if Shiro thought he was disgusting? Was this an easy out for him? He didn’t need any other reason to stay with a tainted and dirty person anymore.

Lance clung desperately to their normality. Stubbornly he tried to tell himself that it would be okay, that it was all a terrible dream.

“Wait.” He called, fingers starting to tremble. He didn’t want to cry again. He didn’t want Shiro to hate him. He didn’t want Shiro to leave forever.

Shiro stopped for him, stood in the open doorway and waited tensely as Lance approached.

It clicked so clearly, Shiro did find Lance disgusting. He saw him differently. Tears burned hot behind his eyes and Lance pressed a small kiss to Shiro’s lips.

Lance wanted that kiss to change everything, for this terrible dream to go away, for Shiro to say he wasn’t actually there and didn’t watch.

“I still love you, okay? Don’t...don’t go off and think badly of yourself or-or of me. There’s just- I- so much to think about.” Lance stuttered, tripping over himself and the hot feeling in his gut.

He took Shiro’s arm and gave it a gentle press of fingers, wanting Shiro to tell him it was okay. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real.

“I’ll be in your room. Whenever you’re ready to talk…”

Lance let go of Shiro when he said so, terror so thick it was sour in his mouth. He nodded and stepped back, letting Shiro go from the room.

When the door shut, Lance fell to his knees with a sob. He covered his mouth, willing down the feeling he was about to throw up.

Shiro didn’t tell him it was okay. Shiro didn’t tell him it was fake or a dream.

Lance’s legs were weak, heavy like lead on the floor as he curled on himself and cried, sobbed hard enough that his chest hurt.

He felt betrayed. Betrayed that Shiro would–

How could he? How could he have just watched? Not even said anything? Not come to him after and ask if he was okay?

Did Shiro really care about him? He must have, if he followed Lance after and tried to explain himself. But maybe he was using him. But for what reason? Was it out of pity?

That thought made Lance hot, feeling embarrassed and angry. He was not some guy to pity-date. Hell no.

One part of Lance told him nasty things, how Shiro didn’t care, not really. That Shiro did care before but now he saw Lance as some disgusting whore.

But the other part of Lance wanted nothing more than to scream and punch the wall, the floor, _Shiro_. How dare he watch? How dare he try and say he couldn’t do anything? There was always a way to help. Kerberos or not.

How could Shiro have put Lance over Kerberos though?

His thoughts warred on back and forth, rolling over each other as he cried. His shoulders jumped with each hiccuped breath.

He hated himself, hated Iverson, hated the Garrison, hated…. no. He couldn’t hate Shiro. Even as he knelt here wanting to, willing himself to hate Shiro, he couldn't do it.

His memories of Shiro holding him close and keeping him warm and feeling safe would not stop interfering.

He just needed to make new memories then, he needed to keep Shiro at arms length, distant.

No one came to bother him, not when he crawled into bed and turned over, back to Shiro’s side of the bed and trying to not press his face against the pillow.

The door stayed firmly shut and locked when Lance cried again, hit with imagining Shiro curling up behind him and pressing his lips to the back of his neck.

He held his pillow close, reluctantly used Shiro’s own pillow to support himself and cry against.

 _I’m sorry_. His dream Shiro whispered, a kiss under his ear leaving his skin burning. _I love you, Lance._ And another hot press of lips came to his neck, further down to the nape of his neck.

Lance shot up in bed, slapping a hand over his neck with a shudder. He couldn’t stay in bed with the sheets over his hips, imagining the ghost of Shiro’s warm hands on his thighs, coming up further and further until they were squeezing harsh and painful, Iverson’s voice now in his ear whispering filth.

Lance whimpered and stumbled into the bathroom connected, pressing the controls on the glass panel. Steam immediately began to curl at the ceiling as hot water fell from the showerhead.

Lance didn’t wait any longer to pull his clothes off and step inside, hoping the scalding water would wash away the touches.

Lance didn’t know how long he stayed in there, hands pressed on the wall and hot water on his neck and shoulder blades, burning away the feeling of grabbing hands and chapped lips.

The castle never had an ending supply of hot water, so it was a matter of Lance growing drowsy and tired that sent him to turn the water off and step out.

His skin was flushed pink from the heat and as he scrubbed off dry with a towel, it just irritated it further. Lance bypassed his facemask in favor of just crawling back into bed, eyelids too heavy to stay open any longer.

When he fell asleep, he dreamed of that night, but instead of Iverson standing over him, back handing him enough to leave bruises, it was Shiro, eyes hard as stone and voice just a cruel. His grin was sharp, canines elongated and the shadows on his face seemed darker, a part of him, of this darker Shiro.

Lance couldn’t wake up from it, that Shrio in his dreams dragging him away from the safety of waking up over and over again, forcing him back into his own head to scream and cry and beg for him to stop.

* * *

 

For once, when Lance woke up, he was glad it was to a cold bed, devoid of Shiro and his soft breathing.

He had gotten himself dressed slowly, not wanting to leave the room. However, his growling stomach forced him to do otherwise. He assumed it would be okay, at this time, since it was past the paladin’s “communal breakfast” time.

Lance slipped from the room and walked softly towards the huge dining hall, already spotting empty chairs and leftover bowls of goo and other colorful foods.

His stomach growled once again and he skipped into the hall with glee, forgetting all about the day before, just for the small amount of time he had to shove a handful of crunchy, striped things into his mouth and then almost immediately choke on them.

Sitting at the end of the table was Shiro, eyes wide and spoon poised over a black and yellow bowl of slop. Lance remembered how bitter and salty that dish was, it was Shiro’s favorite, especially when he wanted to feel like he’d eaten healthy.

The black paladin cleared his throat softly and set his spoon down, looking at Lance expectantly, like they might soon have a conversation.

Instead, Lance felt indescribably petty and sneered at Shiro before grabbing a bowl of green food goo and storming from the room.

Shiro’s favorite dish wasn’t the only bitter and salty thing in the room.

Lance heard Shiro sputter some weak excuse of a pet name for him as he tried to extract himself from the table and follow. But Lance wasn’t having any of it, no sir, not this time.

His blood was boiling, and thinking about the cause only made Lance’s eyes water. He needed to be away, he had to be away. If Shiro touched him….

Warm metal came against Lance’s shoulder, stopping him from his rampage down the halls, but it ended up whirling said rage around.

Lance slapped away the hand, used his other to shove Shiro in the center of his chest hard enough to send him stumbling back.

“Don't you fucking touch me!” He snapped, breathing heavy. He didn’t want to cry. He hated crying when he was angry, it always sent mixed signals.

Shiro looked as if Lance had slapped him, hard across the face and then insulted his family. Maybe that might have been a lesser blow than what Lance was gearing up to dish out.

“You don’t deserve to touch me ever again! Not after yesterday, not after four years ago!” Lance felt the tears in his eyes, and when he blinked, they slipped down his face, “After everyth-”

His hiccup brought himself to count his breathing, steady in, and steady out. He hated the look Shiro gave him, one of concern and desire to comfort. Just seeing that in Shiro made Lance’s skin crawl. _Don't touch me! Don’t touch me!_

“What made you ever think it was okay to not tell me you saw what happened? Did you just think you could go along dating me and thinking the water was under the bridge?! What else did you look in on? Did you see Iverson shoving me into his desk? Huh? What about Pearson using me in the bathroom? Did you just happen to be walking by there too?”

Shiro’s mouth hung open softly, looking ready to speak up but Lance wanted nothing but his silence.

“Shut the hell up, Shiro! I don’t want any of your excuses! You kept that from me!! With everything that we’ve been through? Your dark secrets you don’t want to tell me are that you’ve watched me get _raped_?”

Shiro winced at the foul word, Lance not at all afraid to spit it at him like a weapon. His shoulders were trembling with barely kept anger, chest tight, fingers balled up.

“When did you ever plan to bring that up to me, Shiro? Never?? When something else like it happened? Were you just happening to wait until I’d forget or something?”

Shiro shook his head, starting, “Lance, No. I-”

But Lance gave Shiro’s shoulder the barest of hard glances, sending the talker man stepping backwards with a flinch. Cold anger curled happily in his stomach at Shiro’s scared expression. _Good_.

“You’re a bastard, Shiro. For you to take that from me. To keep that kind of thing to yourself.”

Every sharp sentence held malice folded ten times over. Lance had been unknowingly saving all of it for years, bottled up inside and waiting for the cork to come out. He had stepped closer to Shiro with each sentence, sure to drive his point home once Shiro’s back bumped into the wall.

Now the tables were turned, now Shiro could feel what he felt, that disgusting fear of someone you loved, of someone so close turning on you. Now it was Shiro’s turn, Lance thought viciously. Every nerve was hellbent on revenge.

“You’re not fit to be a leader if all you can do is hide behind your stupid excuses! I don’t give a shit you were scared! You don’t think I wasn’t terrified? They threatened my fucking family, Shiro! My brothers, my sisters, my mom! Do you know how it feels to tell yourself every night that you are _obligated_ to get raped for your family? Do you know what that would do to my family if they knew?

“You’re a fucking coward. Unable to stand above your mission and unable to stand above your pride to help. You say there was nothing you could have done but you're wrong. You could have done _everything_. You sure do it now, whatever you can to save me.”

“Lance–”

“No. You don’t get to fucking talk. _You_ will listen to _me_ . The shit I had to go through at that Garrison for my family, for _you_. How funny is it that they never had to worry about my hero finding out about me and them because he was already watching!”

Lance laughed dryly, wanting to wipe away his tears but stuck in place, fixing Shiro to the wall like a trap. Shiro looked terribly small, nothing but submissive and sorry to the hot rage Lance was letting him have.

“L-Lance, you’re hurting me…” he whispered, voice strained as he winced. It had Lance pulling his hands away without looking. He cursed himself in his head, still so accommodating for Shiro even after learning what happened. Even after being beyond livid with him Lance still listened to him.

He noticed the color on Shiro’s flesh and blood wrist the moment he looked down for a minute to blink away tears.

And the bruise already forming made Lance’s throat shut tight. Small crescents of red lined the dark bruise already, blood rising to the surface. Lance had no idea he had even grabbed Shiro, had held onto him with such viciousness.

But even seeing Shiro hurting, and by his own hand, Lance’s anger still swelled like a rising tide, crashing on the shore ruthlessly until it tired itself out. There was no stopping the waves.

“Don’t ever touch me again, Shiro.” He said, voice low and heat still in his tone. He stepped back before walking away down the hall, finally able to wipe his eyes.

 _Don’t touch me, don’t look at me, don’t talk to me._ It was all clear in one command. And Lance hoped to every star out there that he listened. For his sake.

Lance looked down at his hand at his side once he got back into the room, staring at the drying blood on his fingertips. Shiro’s…

He breathed out heavily as he went into the bathroom and washed it away. As Lance’s stomach growled he hung his head, frustration building with the anger when he realized he had left his food goo back with Shiro…

 


End file.
